


when you’re lost in the universe (i did everything for new york)

by ftmpeter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Lives, because that’s what happens when you go through a lot of traumatic shit, but peter is still fucked up, i didn’t write anyone else in because i didn’t know how to, or honestly an ambiguous one, who knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 21:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20534945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftmpeter/pseuds/ftmpeter
Summary: If depression is like drowning, then Peter supposes he is being gripped by his hair and forced underwater.





	when you’re lost in the universe (i did everything for new york)

If depression is like drowning, then Peter supposes he is being gripped by his hair and forced underwater.

Maybe once, maybe lifetimes ago, he would have put up a fight, would have kicked and resisted and struggled, but that was someone different. That was a Peter who didn’t know that when it comes down to it, fighting is useless.

He remembers reading somewhere that when someone drowns, their last few moments are peaceful. Seconds before they lose consciousness, before their eyes slip shut and hearts stop beating, they experience pure, unadulterated bliss. A feeling of euphoria so strong that it overpowers the fear of death, letting you move into the comfort of the unknown.

_The average person can hold their breath for thirty to sixty seconds, and once you run out of breath underwater, your chance of survival is slim._

Peter has been holding his breath for so long that he doesn’t know what it’s like to let go.

-

He had thought, at one point, that he knew what dying was. He loved science, for God’s sake, and he knew about death more than the average person. It kind of came with the whole Spiderman thing.

**dying **

_ dy·ing |  ˈ dī-i ŋ _

  1. approaching death.

Or, a more detailed one -

**dying**

_ dy·ing |  ˈ dī-i ŋ _

  1. the last stage of life; a process that from a medical point of view begins when a person has a disorder that is untreatable and inevitably ends in death, or the final stages of a fatal disease.

That is, technically, what it is.

But Peter knows that there’s more to it now.

Dying is the pit in your stomach screaming to be heard. It is the black hole in your chest expanding in so many directions that it has to get out in any way that it can. It is becoming ash even when every molecule in your body is desperately trying to put itself back together. It is red dirt underneath your fingertips, leaving trail marks against whatever, or whoever, it is you cling to. It is disappearing, being reduced to nothing when all you’ve ever wanted is to be something.

It is falling headfirst into a solar eclipse.

-

After everything, he ends up on top of buildings more often than not.

(It’s not a suicidal thing. Really.)

The view from this particular one, a few blocks away from the apartment, has always been beautiful, but today is especially incredible. The sunset bathes everything in soft colors. Red and oranges, yellows and pinks, all blending together, all fading into one.

Peter’s been here for the better part of an hour, and his back aches from the lack of movement, but he can’t bring himself to get up.

It hadn’t been a good day.

When he woke up, he could tell it wasn’t going to be one. It was like a dark cloud had manifested itself in his bedroom during the night and followed his heels, trying to trip him. It went with him to school, sat in the back of the room, filling his head up with white noise until it was all he could hear. He could see Ned giving him worried looks, could see MJ glancing at him in every class, but he was too far in to care. If you could put chains on your attention span and locks on your thoughts, that would show a fraction of how it was. Everything important went to the back burner.

Peter snaps out of his trance when he hears footsteps behind him. It’s a distinctive walk, one he knows all too well, so he doesn’t jump too hard. Keywords being too hard.

“How did you find me?” Peter asks without turning around, not actually looking for an answer. He knows that Tony is, you know, an actual billionaire, and probably has more ways of finding people than the FBI, but. Still.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Tony drawls, coming into view. He lowers himself so he’s sat next to Peter.

“You literally announced that you were Iron Man at a live press conference.”

“Shhh. I did nothing of the sort.”

A silence follows, and Peter can’t help but twitch. He brings a mechanical pencil out of his pocket and taps it quickly against his thigh, before putting it back. He scratches the side of his neck, bounces his shoe against the brick it dangles near. It’s like he has electricity in his veins, turning his pulse into shocks.

“It’s really something, huh?” Tony comments, nodding towards the sky. “Looks like a painting.”

Peter shrugs, and even though he can’t see it, he can practically hear Tony’s frown.

“Why are you up here?” Ah. The real question. The real reason he showed up.

_Because sometimes this is the only thing that feels real_ doesn’t seem like the most appropriate thing to say, so Peter just shrugs again. The moon begins to shine a little more brightly as everything around it darkens.

“I feel like Pluto,” Peter murmurs. He knows that that more than likely doesn’t make sense to anyone but himself, but sometimes being cryptic is the only way he can get his thoughts out in the open. Confessions aren’t so harsh when wrapped up in metaphors.

Tony sits on that for a moment, before saying, “What do you mean?”

“When they first discovered it, they said it was a planet. And everyone accepted that because, well, why wouldn’t they? But then they thought about it, and eventually, they changed the definition.” Tears start to form in the corner of Peter’s eyes, but his voice stays remarkably steady. “A planet has to be in orbit around the sun. It has to have enough mass to overcome rigid body forces. Pluto meets both of those requirements, but.. it doesn’t meet the one after that. It falls short.”

Tony opens his mouth to say something, but Peter keeps talking.

“It also has to reach gravitational dominance. It has to be able to push anything that gets into its neighborhood out. Pluto can’t do that.” Peter’s voice finally breaks, and the tears he had tried to will away stream down his face. “It isn’t strong enough. It - it has too much baggage.”

He looks up at Tony, unable to contain his broken expression. “I have too much baggage.”

“Kid - “

A sob rips itself out of Peter’s throat before Tony can finish. He’s crying in earnest now, shudders wracking his entire body. “F-first it was just my parents. But then it was Uncle Ben, and then the - the building, Toomes, and I.. I thought it couldn’t get any worse, and then the - the snap. And I-I felt all of it, Mr. Stark.  _I felt all of it._”

(One of the only things that transcends language is emotion. It goes past any manmade barrier that might have been constructed, any false sense of superiority, any imaginary divisions. For centuries, we have loved and lost and cried. We have had amazing triumphs and heartbreaking downfalls. We have learned to live with the unimaginable.

And Peter hates it.)

“C’mere,” Tony says immediately, and he shifts positions, bringing Peter in close so he’s cradled against his chest.

“You’ve been so strong,” he continues, barely above a whisper. He pushes himself away slightly, to look at Peter with an intensity only seen once before - when he held the stones. “Pete, you’re stronger than anyone else I know. You’ve been through so much and you’re  _still here._ That’s what matters, okay? What you’ve been through.. that’s not what defines you.”

Peter doesn’t react to that at first. Instead, he closes his eyes, resting the top of his head against Tony’s shoulder. He sits like that and then mumbles, “I’m tired of being strong.”

Tony makes a pained noise, running a hand loosely through his curls. 

“I know. I know you are. And you.. you don’t have to be anymore, okay? I can help. I can hold as much weight as you need me to carry.”

Peter instinctively wants to shake his head. He’s grown up looking at the needs of others and prioritizing them over his own. It’s who he is as a person. 

(Sometimes, he thinks that it was always meant to be that way.)

But he’s tired. He’s so, so tired. 

Tony has proven time and time again that he, for some reason, loves Peter. Loves him like he’s his own child. He’s been willing to sacrifice himself, to  _give up his life_ to make sure that he’s okay. And that.. that has to count for something, right?

Peter can feel Tony’s hand in his hair, can feel the warmth of his body radiating against his own. He takes a deep breath.

And lets it go.

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t.. know what this is.
> 
> it started as a vent fic in my notes app on monday night because i’m *finger guns* depressed and peter is such a good character to project on. it was originally going to go in a totally different direction (aka a lot more sad. like. a lot) but i just.. wasn’t feeling it. somehow this non linear mess was the result.
> 
> obviously, this is an au where tony lives following the results of endgame. because i said so. i recognize that the council has made a decision, but given that it was a stupid ass decision, i’ve elected to ignore it
> 
> stay cool my dudes


End file.
